


Touch... I Remember Touch.

by PacketofRedApples



Category: Alan Wake (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Issues, Fluff, M/M, one bit is nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 20:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: Instead of sleeping the night pre my trip I took it upon myself to …write more shitty fanfiction I guess…welp





	Touch... I Remember Touch.

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of sleeping the night pre my trip I took it upon myself to …write more shitty fanfiction I guess…welp

The darkness… it was cruel, dangerous, left a man lonely and cold. Zane knew this before Alan, yet with no warning, almost as if, bestowed it upon him. With no other choice, Alan has been as if floating in the ocean of the presence, trying to stop it. But it this futile fight would one day end, and Wake feared it would not be a victory for his own efforts.

But the real issue always remained, the touch starved writer sadly recollected the days spent with Alice, the touch of her soft skin, the light she radiated and the warmth she shared with him. She was like the sun, to his pathetic being. He couldn’t manage to be even remotely worthy of her at times… more so at the end of it. That is, pre-entering the dark place. His weak will only managed to flood them and distance them from one another.

Wake hated it, remembering this, remembering his failures to her. The only one who actually mattered. But even if his brain would trail off to consider this fuck up, soon after he would fall down, thinking of holding her. Thinking of the press against his body, the weight he hasn’t felt in what feels like years now—or it could have actually been. It was hard to keep track of it all here.

Unfortunately, at times like this Alan would run through his options. Always settling for memories of her, of them together. Thinking of how they met and so on, how the warm and bright days were spent. He would indulge in these, surround himself by them and dream of them returning until the motivation to continue going would return. He would push through it all if it just meant to see her smile again. Let her eyes settle on him, touch her again.

Or so it usually went. While not a rule, but an established fact… he couldn’t help it. It was broken. The would-be ritual that rebuilt his strength was simply not working. For what felt like ages, the champion of light kept thinking of his nearly idyllic life with his beloved, but it never clicked. The fear that Alan has exhausted it occurred to him, but he couldn’t allow himself to think that.

 The anxiety building from the pit of his stomach and wrapping around his throat, as if a supernatural force he was all too familiar with by now forced him upwards and to pace on the old, long-suffering floorboards.

He halts at the door eventually, deciding he needs to step outside, which he goes about trying to do, but once downstairs he is met with an off-putting bright grin on his doppelgangers face as he tackles him into the wall.

“Didn’t I ask you to stop doing that?” Alan mutters out, fidgeting in the spot. But it seems the regular instant retreat by Mr. Scratch is forgotten, instead—the double pulls back, glancing over the man he is formed alike to. Not with some intent, but confusion. He lingers longer than need is, longer than ever accustomed to by the two of them. The mirrors’ weight feels nice against Alan’s body… Calming. So much so that when Scratch begins to actually pull away while chuckling, Alan clings to his identical jacket, alarming the man.

“What’s the matter?” He asks and it could almost be a joke. Almost a sardonic comment upon the poor writer’s fate. But even as large as Alan’s distrust in the other was, there was still the fact of the anxiety pulling at his every muscle.

“Stay like this—“ Wake instructs more than ask, quickly embarrassed by his state.  The duplicate cocks his head considers this for a second before moving back into his previous position. Closer to Alan. Upon this occurring, Alan was shocked at how easily he calmed as he more so felt than listened to the other’s heartbeat. Concentrate solely on it, actually. It felt… good. Like it filled up the hole in the writer’s soul.

They could have remained like that for a considerably long time, and probably did… But then, the champion sighed, nuzzling closer to his shadow only to be surprised how upon the press tighter into the shape of the other’s body he discovered an unsuspected reaction in the one before him.

Jumping back in the limited space, Alan hit the wall hard and Scratch moved back, startled from the original’s sudden movement.

The anxiety arose again.

Wake trembled slightly, and the double tried to approach him again, but this time Alan ducked out from underneath him and dashed upstairs to hide in the bedroom. The mirror followed close behind.

“Fuck off, freak.” Alan said from his spot by the bed, covering his mouth and eyes wide.

“What did I do?” the genuine confusion could really sell it, but the bestseller appears to be too much in the wrong state to accept it.

After a good several minutes, Alan gulps, breathes, and makes himself turn to the other “person” (if you could call it that) in the room. In his mind, he’s trying to sanitize this situation, tape it away as evidence, bag it up and look at it from afar.

But the truth of the matter was it wasn’t exactly Scratch’s fault. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. There was a spasm that traveled all the way through all of the disgruntled man’s weak from fatigued body.

Trying to even out his breathing, Alan sat down onto the overused and abused mattress, clinging onto himself, attempting to hold it all together. The double worries and carefully moves closer to the other, sitting down next to him and once more pressing their bodies together. Letting their hearts beat together.

Sure, for that moment in time it was a gesture of solidarity between two figures stuck in a ruthless ocean. While awkward at bits, it could remain like that. Something to string them together. But Alan chose a path he would walk the other down… a mistake or a right move? Well, that was up to him to decide and he had made that decision long ago.


End file.
